Kael led Freya, Rhea, and Lila to the house next to the Haven, the morning sun glaring off its dilapidated facade.
The structure was a mess—sagging wooden siding shed curls of faded paint, cracked windows gaped like broken teeth, and the yard choked on a tangle of weeds, vines, and twisted trees, their roots buckling the cracked walkway.
The air reeked of mildew and decay, the Haven's creaky walls behind them a faint comfort.
Freya shifted, her navy pants concealing the anal bead panties, each step sending a subtle, tingling jolt through her, her jaw clenched to stifle a gasp.
"What a dump," Rhea said, nudging a rusted can with her foot, her black shorts already dusted with dirt, the scent of her breakfast bacon lingering.
"Needs more than a broom," Freya muttered, her voice sharp, her hands twitching, the beads' pressure a constant distraction, her cyan t-shirt creasing as she surveyed the chaos.
